


Globox Isn't Real

by sybun



Series: The Globox Trilogy [1]
Category: Game Grumps, oneyplays
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Play, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybun/pseuds/sybun
Summary: Chris invites Ding Dong over to play video games and things take a strange turn.





	Globox Isn't Real

**Author's Note:**

> Though Ding Dong has never publicly shown his face, this is assuming that he is brunette and has blue eyes. What he has said (during a stream), however, is that he is pretty tall (I believe he said 6'1") and somewhere around 140-150 pounds. This is the information that was used for this work.

Ding Dong was sitting at the computer in his room, air conditioner blaring in an attempt to ward off the lingering California heat. From the way the sun reflected off of and baked everything in his room, he guessed it was probably about 102°. He was tapping his skinny fingers across the keyboard in a boredom-inspired rhythm when he noticed his phone screen light up. It was a notification -- a text from his good friend Chris O'Neill. 

It read:  
"Wanna come over right now and play multiplayer Super Mario 64?"

Ding Dong was quick to agree to this idea, seeing as Super Mario 64 was one of his favorite games and that he always had a great time playing video games with Chris. He also had little more than nothing to do, seeing as though Julian was still sleeping and none of the profusion of games that lined his shelves seemed appealing.

He replied:  
"Sure. Be over in a bit."

Before he left, and with a set of keys dangling from his hand, he bade farewell to the Sleeping Beauty Julian who was engrossed in blankets and thoughts of enormous muscular men like Tiny Tiger. 

"Mmbye… don't have too much fun without me." He mumbled into the pillow.  
…

"Chris, you can't say that!" Ding Dong yelled while repeatedly jumping on Mario's (Chris') head in Princess Peach's ornate castle. Toad stood on guard, emotionless as ever.

"What?!" Chris laughed, "I was just joking! Now stop fuckin' jumpin' on me, you dillbert!" 

Ding Dong snickered and moved the joystick away from Chris' character. "Okay, okay, now let's go do a level." 

They settled on Jolly Roger Bay and came to the part with the giant red eel, Unagi, on the screen. His mouth was gaping, his sharp teeth were bared, and Chris felt the urge to call out one of Ding Dong's strange fetishes.

"Hey Ding Dang." Chris said, facing the underweight brunette whose eyes were romanced to the screen.

"Yes, Chris?" Ding Dong replied in his teasing yet monotone voice.

"You want that eel to vore you?" Chris inquired, moving Mario closer to the giant sea creature's mouth.

"Chris, please. You want that eel to shove Mario in his big pussy?" Ding Dong cooed, moving Luigi around spastically.

Chris laughed, "Hey, that's not as bad as wanting to fuck a fuckin' frog! Globox!" 

"He's good. He's the best character." Ding Dong replied, glancing at Chris like what he just said was innuendo.

"That's only 'cuz you want to fuck him, Ding Dong!" Chris emphatically articulated while returning Ding Dong's glance. This statement, however true it really was, was false enough to cause Ding Dong to ponder it.  
…

The TV was off, but Ding Dong remained hunched over on the couch scrolling through YouTube comments on his phone -- a bad habit. Chris was nearby looking at something on his computer. Even though the session was long over and most of the things they said were long forgotten, Ding Dong recalled Chris' earlier incorrect assumption about a certain blue amphibian.

"Hey, Chris." Ding Dong interjected.

Chris kept his eyes on the computer. "Yeah?"

Ding Dong looked up at the black TV screen. "You know, that's not true what you said earlier."

"What did I say?"

"You said I would fuck Globox."

"How's that not true?"

"I guess it is true, but it's not entirely true. I mean, I would let Globox fuck me." 

Chris looked past his shoulder at Ding Dong. "You are so fuckin' weird, dude." 

Ding Dong half-smiled, totally aware of the fact. He was looked back at his phone, but it was little more than a blank stare.

"Okay, so, but Globox isn't real so --" Chris said, but was interrupted by Ding Dong: "So, I'll never get to live out my fantasy of being fucked by Globox." There was a slight bitterness in his remark.

Chris interjected, closing the browser on his computer. "But Globox doesn't even have a dick! So, if he was real, how could he fuck you?"

"He could fuck me with his tongue, I guess. I'd like that." Ding Dong smoothed a hand through his brunette locks, probably imagining it.

Chris stood up from his chair and faced the tall, slender man lounging on his couch. "You're a slut, Ding Dong," he said matter-of-factly.

Ding Dong sat up straight and glared at the blonde who was just feet away from him. "Maybe I am, Chris. Does that bother you?" 

Chris thought about it for a minute, then cautiously sat down on the couch next to Ding Dong. "Yes, it does bother me. But in a good way." His tone was comical yet impish; a short laugh ensued.

Ding Dong was somewhat taken aback, but under no circumstance would he ever decline the opportunity to be dicked down. Especially not by Chris O'Neill -- a guy with a little pudge in the right places.

Ding Dong resorted to melodramatic obliviousness when he asked, "What do you mean 'in a good way'?" 

Chris eyeballed the room for a second, as if it were watching and waiting for his next move. "Listen, Ding Dong, I'm not gay, but I would totally fuck you. Just to experience it." The comment was followed by a solid minute of silence and restless glances that implied careful thought.

"…Well, I'd let you fuck me." Ding Dong said quietly. "You could even do it right now if you wanted to."

Chris looked over at Ding Dong, the certainty in his face discernible, and concluded that he was dead serious.  
"Just don't mention this to Julian." Ding Dong mumbled in his usual monotonous tone, sluggishly tracing his blue eyes over Chris' somewhat glazed-over, green eyes.  
… 

One thing led to another and Ding Dong was barred between the solid wall and Chris. They were chest to chest; one of Chris' hands against the wall while the other rested on Ding Dong's hip bone.  
Ding Dong's neck and raised collarbones were covered in contusions of violet and crimson due to Chris' inquisitive methodology of nipping at and sucking the fair skin between his lips. He was fairly silent, save for a few strangely effeminate gasps when Chris returned to the sore spots that he had already tended to.  
Chris became jaded for a moment, forgetting that Ding Dong was, in fact, a man. It was only natural that in times of uncertainty he resorted to what he knew. One hand snaked its way up Ding Dong's shirt and attempted to grasp at something that just simply wasn't there; his fingertips lamely swiped at the pectoral in a squeezing motion.

"Chris, I don't have tits." Ding Dong chuckled, moving a hand lazily over his own mouth to muffle the laugh. That was just like Ding Dong to suppress his laughter, he thought. 

Chris stopped his motions for a second to look up at Ding Dong, who had his eyes shut and overall seemed quite placid. 

"I forgot, I don't know." Chris looked back down, somewhat wide-eyed, at the shirt slick against Ding Dong's flat chest and laughed.  
Even though Ding Dong was lacking in that department, that didn't stop Chris from brushing over and lightly pinching Ding Dong's nipple with his fingers. The sensation was like a burn in that it bypassed Ding Dong's brain and went straight to his dick, causing an involuntary knee-jerk that rubbed against Chris' groin. 

"Jesus Christ," Chris gazed over the entirety of Ding Dong's lower abdomen and torso and then to his slightly agape lips, "You just want it that fuckin' bad, huh?"

Ding Dong languidly gazed back at Chris and pulled his shirt up to fully expose his lean chest. He covered his eyes with one of his skinny arms, perhaps in embarrassment, and beckoned, "Do it again."

Chris blushed deeply. That wasn't a direct answer to his question, but he continued nonetheless; he pinched and squeezed Ding Dong's nipples meaningfully, eliciting a variety of sharp gasps and sonorous groans. The sound refined down to a vibration and funneled through Chris' ears, resounding throughout his nervous system. His eyes ended up once again to Ding Dong's parted lips, and he wondered if he would be asking too much if he posed the notion of Ding Dong sucking him off. Chris stopped all motions with his hands and looked up at him. "Hey Ding Dong?" 

Ding Dong, with his face flushed, hair fluffed, and skin battered was somehow conscious of exactly what Chris was going to ask. He looked into Chris' eyes, unequivocally, and then his stare fell down to the bulge. "You don't even gotta ask, Chris." 

Ding Dong lowered himself down to the floor where his face was mere inches away from the zipper.  
It was stunning how relatively quickly this occurred; Chris ogled Ding Dong, who seemed avid in regard to the opportunity in front of him. In a short sequence of hand gestures, Ding Dong undid the zipper and shoved down both Chris' denim jeans and black boxers. Hesitation was not in Ding Dong's nature when it came to things like liberating a dude's dick from his jeans.

If Chris had seen such enticement in someone's eyes before, it was certainly nothing in comparison to Ding Dong's right now. 

"You're looking at it like it’s a big bowl of curry, you fruit." Chris laughed, gently slapping Ding Dong upside the head.

Chris wasn't fully hard yet, but it was obvious that Ding Dong was all too happy to change that. As such, he coated his own palm and fingers in tepid saliva to lessen the friction that would occur from skin-on-skin contact.  
Meanwhile, Chris tipped his head back and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair as the base of his dick was grasped by five spit-slicked fingers. Those fingers began pumping Chris in a cadence that was all too good at causing his blood to beeline towards his dick.

Chris said nothing but bit his bottom lip as he soon felt a thin pair of lips at the head of his cock, then a tongue slip past and travel down the base. He shuddered and felt his stomach suck inwards at the sensation. As if the physical contact of someone's tongue on him wasn't already an overload to his senses, Chris looked downwards at Ding Dong, who was staring back up at him with a seemingly sinister intent.  
But nothing of the sort happened; he went little by little -- lips on the head, mouth around the head, and then slowly downwards to Chris' lower abdomen. In a way, he was feeling around the uncircumcised situation between his lips.  
Once he had nearly the entirety of Chris' dick in his mouth, he began to bob his head up and down, one hand wrapped around the shaft and the other entwined tightly in the fabric of Chris' shirt.  
Ding Dong felt Chris' body tighten up as if the blood from his muscles was slowly being drained and redirected to his cock. As a result, the warmth in Ding Dong's mouth became exponentially warmer and the free space became less and less.  
Chris bit back a moan that emanated from somewhere deep within his body; Ding Dong began picking up speed, damn near gagging himself, which encouraged him instead of deterring him.  
Chris let one hand drop and interlace in Ding Dong's hair. It was an attempt to stabilize himself in case the man sucking him off failed to heed his omens.  
It was certainly heading in the direction of danger as the fullness in Ding Dong's mouth in conjunction with the tugging of his hair evoked a groan -- which, given the obstacle in its way, was muffled into an oscillation. 

"Holy fuck." Chris said in the general direction of nowhere, squeezing his eyes shut. It was more of a spontaneous blurt that happened to come out as spoken language. It made perfect sense to Ding Dong, however. He responded nonverbally by increasing the suction of his mouth around Chris, which, unsurprisingly, resulted in him bucking his hips into Ding Dong's face. This motion was strong enough to cause the back of Ding Dong's skull to make a small impact with the wall. Ding Dong enjoyed this, which Chris soon learned upon looking down to see if he was okay. He quite literally looked as if he were in another dimension; his blue eyes were rolled upwards towards his brain and his mouth was still full of dick. The notion of Chris banging his head against the wall was exhilarating -- not enough to cause bodily injury, just enough to rattle his senses.  
So, Ding Dong removed Chris from his mouth and sat there in revelation. 

"Come here." Chris breathed and offered a hand to Ding Dong. He brought Ding Dong to his feet and there they were again, face to face, yet this time the tension was palatable. And Chris' dick was out. The taste of that was still present in Ding Dong's mouth.

Ding Dong looked down at it --he didn't move his eyes. "You gonna fuck me now?" 

Chris blinked, almost as an afterthought, and then walked towards his bedroom door rather quickly; he mumbled about needing to grab something. He came out about three seconds later with a bottle in his hand.

"You know," he said with a cheeky smile, "I hope this works in your ass as good as it does in a pussy."

Ding Dong rolled his eyes, swallowed, and replied with conviction, "Of course it will. And it's gonna be better."  
…

Next thing Ding Dong knew, he was on his back, pants and intimates on the floor, breath distending out of his lungs in an arrhythmic method, face bright-fuckin'-red, and two or three lubed-up fingers ramming up his ass. They were on Chris' bed, which resembled more of a jumbled mess of blankets and pillows rather than an actual bed. Chris was multitasking in the midst of this; while his fingers fucked Ding Dong he was also jerking himself off quite zealously.  
In retrospect, it didn't take Chris long at all to figure out the inner workings of Ding Dong. He found something that made Ding Dong see the Canis Major constellation for a good second once he curved his fingers into it. The muffled wailing noise that escaped Ding Dong's throat was also something to be heard. This was all the more encouragement for Chris who, at this point, desired nothing more than to be pounding his dick into Ding Dong. 

"Ok-ay, ok-ay" Ding Dong was exasperated, and it was perfectly clear to Chris that he should stop. So, he pulled his fingers out, and took a good minute to stare. The very presence of the subdued man splayed out in front of him was a taunt; Ding Dong's exasperation was made clear by the way his legs lay limp, in between of which his dick perfectly defined "painful erection."  
Chris scooted closer so that the backs of Ding Dong's thighs were resting against his shoulders. They were skin to skin, heat was radiating and blood was pulsating in the air around them, and Ding Dong's face was just so utterly pornographic that Chris blurted out, "I'm gonna fuck you now, okay?" It wasn't a question; it was an edict made by the adrenaline surging through Chris' veins.

The loss of composure in Ding Dong's jaw that occurred in response to the entrance was the physical expression of a thousand yeses to this declaration. 

"Oh-oh my God.." This was all that Ding Dong could say; it was born from the shock of a sudden, more substantial fullness inside of him in conjunction with the unexampled pleasure that built up with every subsequent thrust. Chris' face in this moment was a wonder just in itself -- his eyelids were squeezed shut, brows furrowed, and lips tightly pursed together. Overall, it looked like he was trying to prevent himself from imploding. His dick was, after all, pushing into a restrictive and exceedingly warm space.  
In contrast, Ding Dong was nearly completely incoherent at this point and was grabbing at Chris' shirt -- he was trying to make some sort of sense of the situation while the guy ramming into him was effectively turning his brain into mush. Not only that but the nerves of his lower torso were so impacted, and all in unison, that his limbs began to tingle. 

"Glo-Globox…" The name trickled out of Ding Dong's mouth and went right through Chris' ears and into his brain for a longer-than-usual analysis. Because his dick was preoccupied, he didn't immediately register that Ding Dong legitimately called out for a blue cartoon frog.

There was a set rhythm that formed; it consisted of Chris slamming into Ding Dong, Ding Dong's body being shoved into the mattress as a result, and Chris pulling his hips back to repeat.

With things going the way they were, it was clear that this wouldn't last long. If you looked at this situation like a curve on a graph, the highest point of it represented the very moment where Chris snapped and ejaculated into Ding Dong. The brunette groaned as he also fell victim to the same fate; the thrusting continued until every last gratifying pulse was diminished. In other words, each already unbearable strike against Ding Dong's prostate was compounded by the feverish motions of Chris' orgasm and the semen spilling into him. It was hedonism at best.  
A few exhausted breaths later, they both snapped back into reality. Ding Dong's legs fell to Chris' outer sides and Chris laid his head down on Ding Dong's bony chest, which was rising and falling albeit it at a diminishing rate. Further down Ding Dong's abdomen, there was a mess that would have to be mentioned. 

Ding Dong brought his hand up to rest in Chris' hair. 

"Did you just say Globox?" Chris balanced on his chin to look up at Ding Dong, who, at this moment, was covered in a combination of sweat and his own semen. But he still seemed quite tranquil.

"I said that like 5 minutes ago." He said, looking back down at Chris, who was pulling himself out; he kept his head on Ding Dong's chest as if it were a pillow.

"Were you honestly thinking of a fuckin' frog while I had my dick in you?" 

Ding Dong's response was an almost completely inaudible "maybe." Which, coming from him, was likely a definite yes.  
…

Ten minutes later they were both dead asleep; Chris had his chest against Ding Dong's back in a spooning position. It was warm and quiet like a magenta-skied summer evening -- the kind in which the smell of blooming vegetation pervaded the air.  
Five missed calls was probably a sign that Julian was worried, but Ding Dong would deal with that later.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again and thanks for reading. This one has been an ongoing work since September 12th (probably 1-2 times a week because of school). Glad to finally have it done. I think this one is more "put-together" in comparison to my last work. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
